Better Than Chocolate
by freedomatthesea
Summary: Emma finds out what's better than chocolate for relieving stress.


Ever since Regina had conjured up that bar of chocolate to tempt the Lost Boy all Emma could think about was dark chocolate. Mary Margaret had packed everything under the sun for a trip to the Enchanted Forest – and condoms had apparently been more important than chocolate and Emma _really_ didn't want to question why that had top priority. Especially now that she knew that her parents more or less wanted to replace her.

Which only added to the stress she was already under.

Her son was kidnapped by Peter Pan, Neal was alive, her parents wanted a new baby, and she had feelings for Captain Hook. Everything would be better if she just had a bar of chocolate. _Dark_ chocolate.

What was the point of being able to do magic if she couldn't even conjure herself a bar of chocolate.

Emma leaned her head back against the tree, exhaling heavily. She just wanted to be _home_ – safe and sound. Nothing to worry about for more than five minutes. But no, she was in the middle of Neverland. _Worrying_.

"What's wrong love?"

Her eyes flew open and she sat up straighter, "Hook? What are you doing here?" She questioned defensively, staring at the leather clad pirate with narrowed eyes. Wherever she went, he was always right behind. "I thought you were asleep."

"Can't sleep. Rarely do." He shrugged, cocking a brow as he looked down at her. "I'm guessing that you can't either."

"No." She shook her head, her shoulders sagging. "I have too much on my mind. It's impossible to sleep here."

"Your parents somehow manage too." He retorted with a little laugh, moving towards the rock she was sitting on, perching on the side beside her. "What's on your mind?"

"What _isn't_ on my mind?" Emma snapped, a little harsher than she meant to, turning her head to look at him. "Sorry. I'm just stressed."

"I can tell." Hook said in return, shaking his head, "And you've got plenty of reason to be stressed. But it doesn't mean that you have to be."

"I could just really use a bar of chocolate right now."

"What's that?" Killian asked, arching a curious brow, a small smirk on his lips. "Something edible I assume?"

Emma met his gaze, blushing when she noted that his gaze was on his lips – that's what she got for licking them in his presence. Not that it stopped him otherwise. "It is. It's delicious. An excellent stress reliever."

"There's plenty of things that are stress relievers, love." He offered with a coy look in his impossibly eyes. "Some of them you can get right _here_ – in Neverland."

"Oh?" Emma's eyes widened, wondering if what he was insinuating was what she believed he was insinuating. "What do you mean?"

The lazy smirk that spread across his lips confirmed her belief, "Oh, well, I mean there's plenty of berries that have been known to relive stress." He rested his hand on her leg, fingers resting on the inside of her leg, "Among _other_ alternatives."

This was exactly the reason her mother had packed condoms.

Emma shifted, her legs parting wider, giving him direct access to where she wanted him. "You're the one who knows Neverland best… why don't you show me some of those _alternatives_."

"Well, there's–" He slid his hand up her thigh, her eyes falling shut as his fingers brushed against her core, only the thin material of her leggings and her underwear separated his fingers from her heated flesh.

"That." She said with a breathy laugh, her head falling back against the tree. It was absurd that she was letting _him_ do this – she had two hands, if she needed release she could have done it for herself. But at the same time, it seemed right that it was _him_. He was now satisfying the ache that the kiss had sparked.

"I should have known that this was what you want," Killian said lowly, leaning closer to her. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, tongue flicking out.

Emma curled her fingers around his wrist, trying to guide his fingers to exactly where she wanted them, but with her pants still on – that wasn't going to happen. "_Hook_." She breathed out shakily, lips parting with a silent moan.

"I could do so much more for you Emma." He rasped out, breath dancing over her neck, a shudder running down her spine.

"Then do it. I'm not stopping you." Emma said desperately, tightening her hold on his wrist. "_Please_."

"Well, since you asked so nicely." Killian chuckled, pulling his fingers away from her completely. She cried out, her hips rocking, trying to find contact again.

"Bastard." Emma hissed, her eyes fluttering open, watching as he moved off the rock, moving to his knees in front of her. "_Oh_." She exhaled, shifting to roll her leggings and underwear down her legs for him. "Didn't take you for the giving type."

"How wrong you are." Killian smirked impishly as he tugged her pants off the rest of the way, tossing them aside. He used his hand and his hook to haul her legs over his shoulders, his hand sliding along her inner thigh. "I can _see_ how much you want this, love. All you ever had to do was ask."

"Shut up." She said, though there was a smile on her lips. Desire was burning low in her stomach, her leg muscles trembling as she tried to draw him closer. This was just because she _needed _this – nothing else. It wasn't about him or them or any of that.

Stress relief. The best type when chocolate wasn't available.

Killian cocked a brow as he lowered his head, his tongue flicking out against her clit, smirking when she inhaled sharply. He looked up at her, running a single finger between her slick folds, "You're _very_ wet, love."

"I _wonder_ why." She retorted dryly, rolling her eyes. Only he would be chatting like this with her legs over his shoulders and his head between her thighs. Brushing that gorgeous scruff against her skin and making her ache even worse.

"It's just the stress right? Nothing to do with me?" He questioned, earning a sharp tug on his thick dark hair. "I'll take that as a _yes_." Killian chuckled, leaning in and sliding his tongue along her slit, his tongue pressing into her shallowly.

"_Fuck_."

"Oh is that what you want instead?"

"No." Emma said quicker than perhaps she should have. Because now that _that _thought was in her mind she was going to imagine what it felt like to have him _in_ her. She felt him pressed against her during the kiss – she had some idea of what she was missing out on.

"Suit yourself, love." Killian mumbled against her slick skin, thrusting two fingers into her and curving them upwards. He was no novice in getting a woman _there_, clearly.

"_God_ Killian." Emma fisted his hair between her fingers, tugging at it, loving the way the strands slid between her fingers. This was exactly what she'd needed.

"How long has it been Emma?" Killian asked, flicking his tongue out against her clit again, sucking lightly on the little bundle of nerves as he thrust his fingers in and out of her slowly.

"A year…and a half." She panted out, eyes clenching shut as his fingers brushed right over _that_ spot within her, making her muscles quiver around his fingers. "_Fuck_."

"Tsk tsk." Killian picked up the pace of his fingers, his thumb working intently against her clit, his lips brushing along her inner thigh. "Is _this_ what you really want Emma? I could give you so much more."

She was _not_ going to let him fuck her. Even though that was _everything_ she wanted. She'd be a liar if she said she'd never dreamt of what it would be like. But there was no coming back from that, she could hardly come back from a kiss – or this. But sex… everything would change and now was not the time for that.

"_Killian_." Emma moaned, realizing as soon as the word was out of her lips, that she'd said his _name_ – not the moniker she'd gotten so used to saying.

"Emma… Come for me. You're holding back." Killian said lowly, picking up the pace of his fingers, driving them right into that sweet spot again and again. "Come on, love."

"_Please_." Emma panted, crying out as quietly as she could as her release suddenly went through her. She'd never come that easily before, not even on her own. "Fuck…" Her eyes were unfocused as she looked down at him, meeting those bright blue eyes of his. She knew how he felt about her about this and… she wasn't too far away from all of that herself.

"Please what?" Killian asked in disbelief. She slid her legs off of his shoulders, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "_Emma_."

Emma tugged on his hair, wanting him to be closer to her. "I'd imagine that you need a little _stress reliever_ too."

"It's fine love."

"I want _you_." Emma said firmly, licking her lips as she looked down at his, "As long as you're not going to be a smug bastard about this from here on out."

"If it were a one time thing… I'd leave it at that."

"I can't promise that." She whispered, shaking her head slowly. "But after this, I have to be focused on the real task at hand. Not you."

"I understand." Killian's hand rested at her hip, stroking her skin lightly. "I know you'll get your son back."

"Thank you." Emma smiled at him, meaning so much more than just the reassurance. Meaning to encompass everything that he'd done for her.

She slid her hand down his chest, down to where his length was quite evident beneath his leather trousers. She palmed him through the material before tugging at the laces of his pants, working them open.

Now was when actually having those condoms her mother had packed, would have been nice. But alas, she was not waking her up to ask for one. This was going to be _their_ secret, unlike the kiss.

"Stress relief," Killian whispered, as if he'd read her mind. Assuring her, that this _could_ mean nothing if she wanted it to. "Just that."

"Right." Emma said, less certain of that fact now that he was pulling her closer and she was wrapping her legs around him and _there_ he was, pressing against her hard and thick and everything she needed right then and there.

Killian brushed his lips against hers, groaning as she kissed him back with an edge of desperation that knocked the breath out of him. She curled her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using the kiss to silence the moan that threatened to escape as he thrust forward and took her.

There was nothing gentle about this, nor loving. This was need, pure and unadulterated. It was raw and passionate, desperate and needy – just like the kiss had been. He'd marked her, his hook accidentally scrapping her back, nails biting into his shoulders, lips bruising at his pulse point, fingers leaving bruises at her hip.

It was better than any dark chocolate she'd ever had. Once they got back to Storybrooke… she was going to have to find some reason to be stressed out again. Because _this_ was better than chocolate.


End file.
